


The Boy in the Attic

by foulzombie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Character Death, Ghosts, LMAO, M/M, Mentions of self-harm and abuse, One Shot, Too many epithets sorry, Unfinished, if i missed any warnings please tell me i suck at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:06:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foulzombie/pseuds/foulzombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were people in the house. Dan hid in the attic, terrified of being homeless. But there are worse things than being without a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy in the Attic

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my phone and I literally can't remember the plot, oh well it ends ok. I might continue this, depending on whether I can remember the direction I had planned lol.

Dan was scared.

He had woken up on the floor, cold and sore, all furniture gone and a group of men outside in the driveway. Footsteps echoed around the house; loud, clunky and heavy. He held his breath for a moment, blood pounding in his ears as he strained to hear more. When the unmistakable creak of the bottom stair echoed, Dan crawled through the adjoining closet of his and his brother's room, opening the bedroom door and slipping into the hallway opposite the footsteps. From there he tip-toed towards his parents room, slowly and silently opening the door (He knew, somehow, that his family was gone, yet he still felt fear in the pit of his stomach as he entered the seemingly empty space). There were two other doors in the room, one that connected to the en-suite and one that led to the attic. It was a dark and disgusting part of the house, probably covered in cobwebs and dust and spiders but Dan knew that, if he were careful, he could crawl to the other side of the house and escape through the roof before the strangers found him.

The attic was separated into two rooms. The storage room was connected to his parents room and the spare bedroom was adjacent--separate stairs for it descended into the hallway. The same hallway where Dan heard the footsteps. After slowly climbing the stairs, he crawled through the thick layer of dust, careful to avoid bumping into anything and making the floor squeak as he made his way towards the door.

"Shit!" He didn't expect to see anyone in the room. He didn't _hear_ anyone up there and yet there he was. Dan froze in place as a bright light flashed over his body.

The boy gasped and dropped the flashlight. It clanged loudly as it hit the wood and rolled away, blinding him with light instead of Dan.

He was young, maybe Dan's age or younger. Dan first noticed his eyes, blue and bright as the winter sky and squinted from the brightness of the light, thick glasses sitting atop his nose. His hair was dark, shiny black and darker than his eyebrows. His expression was almost comical--he looked like a deer caught in headlights, but it made his cheekbones pop in a way that made Dan's stomach flip.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before the boy got up quickly, slamming the door behind him as he ran down the stairs.

Dan stayed in the attic with the flashlight and the box the boy was rummaging through to keep him company.

***

Dan was bored.

He was still in the attic, hiding just in case someone tried to find him. He wasn't sure how he ended up inside the wall, maybe a secret door or something, but he had been there for a while. He didn't know if it were minutes, days or weeks that had passed.

The boy never returned. Dan hated how disappointed he was over this. He wanted some answers as to why strangers were in his house and he wanted to know what happened to his family, but at the same time he was afraid of what would happen to him. He didn't want to die.

Sometimes he did, when he used to be very sad. There were days when his wrists were covered in crimson and he would press the blade into his skin harder than usual, but never enough to end it. His brother was only six and he couldn't leave him with their father.

Eventually Dan left his spot in the wall and wandered around the attic. The dust was more scattered now, trails left on the floor where new boxes and spare furniture had been shoved. Dan spent his days going through the boxes and bins, sometimes lounging around on an old quilt he found as he read books. At night he creeped down the stairs and lurked around the house. He couldn't help but compare everything to how it was before. They had the living room furniture facing the window instead of the wall and the tv was big and looked expensive.

The kitchen was full of shiny appliances and brightly coloured utensils and always smelled like a bakery. There was a shelf on the pantry full of bins that held cookies and muffins and bread that made his mouth water.

The house was bright and full of life, and when Dan compared it to how it was before he felt sad. He never had a happy home and this was what he always wanted but he didn't want to be caught and forced to leave.

Sometimes he'd hear snippets of conversation through the walls. It was a family of four--two parents, two sons--just like his own family. The brothers would talk to each other at night, huddled in the adjoined closet. Dan knew because he'd walk between the walls and sit close to them.

They'd talk about school, video games, anime and ghosts. Dan usually left during the latter topic, bored with the conversation. Ghosts, monsters and all things paranormal didn't exist.

***

The sky was dark with heavy clouds, the snow whipping dangerously in the wind. Dan stood by the attic window, watching as the occasional brave soul would walk by in the disgusting weather.

His fingers traced over the scars on his wrists lightly. He couldn't remember the last time he even wanted to slice open his skin, but it had to have been before his family disappeared. The days when his body constantly ached and he wore long-sleeved shirts and hid in the closet and told his brother stories.

Dan turned around, the sky getting too dark to see and he was met with the blue-eyed boy from before. He just stared.

"Hi," the boy said, voice calm but Dan could see how scared and nervous he was.

"Hi," Dan replied back.

He looked a little older, his hair shorter but framing his face nicely. It made Dan wonder how long he'd been hiding in the attic, how many months he spent re-reading the same three books or playing with broken children's toys from the bins.

Dan could hear the boy's heart, the sound loud in the quiet room. Some part of him realized how abnormal that was, but he was more concerned at how scared the teenager seemed to be.

"Are you alright?" He asked, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. His hand suddenly burned with a pleasant warmth--like sticking your arm under the flow of a hair dryer. It travelled through his body like a shockwave, warming his core.

The boy jumped back, and it was over. He looked pale, _paler_ , dropping a bag he was holding and crossing his arms across his chest.

Dan looked down at his hand. Whilst never realizing how pale he'd gotten from never leaving the attic, the sudden colour that flushed his palm contrasted against the white skin on his wrist.

"You're Daniel, right?"

He looked up at the teenager in front of him, who was shaking visibly but Dan knew not to touch him again. Nodding, Dan studied the dusted wooden floors, knowing it was over. The boy, teenager, whatever-the-fuck, was going to ask him to leave. He'd be left truly homeless, unable to find his family and oh god, his brother.

"Please don't kick me out," he mumbled, biting his lip. Dan was working himself up, he knew, but he couldn't stop it. All the what-if's and frozen nights spent in alleyways and the loneliness. "I don't bother you, right? I know it's weird I've been living here but I haven't got anywhere else to go!" His voice cracked and he took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm himself.

"You… what?" The boy said, "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

Turning to face the boy, Dan was met with blue-eyes once more. _Pretty_.

He took a deep breath. "You're dead."

The words were sincere and quiet and said with such pain that Dan believed it for a moment. "And you're an excellent liar."

The boy merely shook his head. "I'm pretty horrible, actually. If I so much as look at alcohol the guilt is all over my face, I can't keep anything from my parents. One time, I had--" He rolled his eyes and sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, about fourteen years ago, you got into a car crash. They found your body close to a river, and your dad in the car. You've been gone for a while, Daniel. I'm really, truly sorry."

"Is this a prank?" He asked, but the words still lingered in his mind. _They found your body close to a river._ Why did that not only sound, but feel familiar? Thinking about it felt like dé·jà vu, almost, except he couldn't remember. "It's not funny."

"It's not a prank," he replied, "I promise. It's why my parents bought the house, it was on sale for being haunted. You were here when I first moved a year ago. I would never joke about a thing, but you need to know, I think."

Dan shook his head, body trembling as he edged away from the boy before him. "Stop it," he said, voice a hoarse whisper despite himself.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered back, his bright eyes glistening with unshed tears. He unfolded his arms and turned slightly, digging around in his bag and pulling out a flat _something_ that looked like a small tv. He clicked a button, the screen illuminating and Dan was fascinated with the device. Was it a tv? A computer? He watched as the boy tapped it, the screen co-operating with each touch.

It was futuristic and amazing, yet Dan's stomach dropped. This was technology that didn't exist, but for the mysterious stranger with the dark hair and blue eyes, it didn't faze him in the slightest.

Dan felt uncomfortable. He couldn't breathe. His chest tightened and the room felt too hot and too big--he wanted to curl into a ball and hide under the blankets of his bed. But it wasn't his bed. He wanted to run to the bathroom and throw up his breakfast, but when he thought about it, he couldn't remember eating anything.

The boy flipped around the magic screen, holding it in front of Dan's face and asking him delicately to read it.

**  
**

_'Icy Road Conditions Kill Father and Son_

Authorities discovered a car on the side of the road Tuesday evening, where James Howell, 41, had been found dead in his vehicle due to head injuries. His son, Daniel Howell, 17, was found down near the river, fifty metres from the vehicle.

Residents are advised to drive with caution until the road conditions have been dealt with.

"This is an unfortunate tragedy and we'd like to remind everyone to use the alternate road as a precaution."

A memorial will be held 17th January.'

 

The article had a picture attached, taken after Dan's sixteenth birthday. He had worn a long-sleeved jumper and jeans despite the weather, he remembered, because they covered the bruises on his arm and legs, and the scars on his wrists. He sat between his father and brother whilst his mother was on the far right, all with fake smiles plastered onto their faces. Dan remembered later that night, after dinner, when his brother received his first beating. He was only five.

"I don't remember his name," he whispered, fingers ghosting over the screen as he looked at the picture. "I… my brother." He felt the tears falling over his cheeks and he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember his mother's name either.

But James, his fucking _father_ , he knew. That man was a dirty splotch of red and rust in his grayscale life. Dan remembered every single slap, punch and kick that man did. He remembered every time he was shoved onto a bed or the floor and stripped naked as his father abused him. He remembered the hospital visits and the lying, and being locked in his room for days.

"Daniel…"

It was whispered in a tiny broken voice, and Dan was brought out of his thoughts when he feels arms wrapped around him. Is that physically possible? Shouldn't the arms go through his body? Wouldn't the boy be cold? He's dead--has been dead for a while--and the boy wasn't scared. Dan was not Casper the friendly fucking ghost, he was dark and empty inside, like the house he was trapped in.

He opened his eyes and was met with blue, sparkling with tears and warmth and compassion and for a moment, he felt safe.

"It's Dan."

The boy nodded, holding Dan tighter and running his fingers through Dan's hair. "I'm Phil."


End file.
